


Dare to Fall in Love

by delicate_mageflower



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders Positive, Angst, Dissociation, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Headcanon, Neurodivergent Character(s), PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5455472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicate_mageflower/pseuds/delicate_mageflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some tiny f!Handers ficlets because I was having a bad day and this was helping, which also means this is most likely a thing that will continue to happen, and what's here seems to have apparently accidentally become a somewhat linear retelling. Rating, warnings, and tags to change as needed.</p><p>
  <b>[NOT abandoned, but on hiatus]</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fuck the Deep Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seriously though, the Deep Roads are actively the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a brief reference to Justice that's not too terribly negative, but it's definitely not positive. It does, unfortunately, just fit with the general tone of that point in the game.

Anders came back, Warden Stroud in tow. Hawke couldn't even bring herself to stand to greet them, remaining on her knees instead, one arm held tightly against her brother.

The other Warden mentioned something about not wanting to do this, his words barely registering as her free hand balled into a fist so tight she thought the press of her own nails against her palm might draw blood. Anders spoke for her as she chewed on her bottom lip. _I can't lose you too,_ she thought to herself.

There were more words she barely heard about how this might not work, might not be the answer, and Hawke noticed the dampness on her cheeks from the tears she'd been trying so hard to keep from falling, which she hadn't even realised had started.

Carver made it no secret that he hated this, that he resented having this decision made for him. _Even when he's dying..._

"I'm sorry," she whispered, almost certain he hadn't heard her. "I can't lose you too, I can't, I can't lose you, I can't lose you both, Maker..."

Anders pressed a hand against her shoulder as she stood before the Grey Warden and his new recruit, uncertain of when she'd even moved to standing. She awkwardly wrapped her arms around Carver, or at least as best as she could with Stroud there holding him upright.

"Sister..."

"I couldn't save Bethany. Please, Carver, let me save you. Fuck, please...let me at least try."

"Marian, listen, that wasn't your fau—"

"I'm sorry, but time is of the essence," Stroud interjected. The Hawke siblings both nodded their acquiescence, their silent goodbye.

As soon as they were out of sight, Hawke practically threw herself against Anders, crying into his shoulder, allowing the guilt for how badly she'd wanted him to kiss her in that moment to work its way into her grief.

***

Anders ran from Hawke and Varric as they exited the Deep Roads. Not one of them had come out emotionally unscathed, but he couldn't look back just yet. All he could do was run.

He ran towards the sunlight, towards the bitterly warm air, towards the crowds he usually hated. He stopped at a pillar when he finally ran out of breath, leaning his forehead against it, running his hands up and down it to ground himself.

_I'm free. I'm here. I'm okay. It's okay._

"Anders?"

He kept his hands on the pillar as he turned his head towards Hawke and all the concern and love in her eyes he kept trying to tell himself he neither saw nor returned. He knew it was a lie, and he knew she knew it too, but he cared too much to even think about what could happen if he gave in. He would tell her it was because he feared Justice, although there was a part of him that knew it wasn't entirely true. He still couldn't figure out what had truly become of his friend since their merging, or even how to find the answer, and it was true that the thought scared him and that he didn't feel right involving Hawke any more than he already had. He had just as much trouble, however, trying not to blame himself for what had happened to Karl. That was what scared him the most, and he hadn't wanted to care for another person as he'd cared for Karl ever again for that very reason.

Hawke waited there by him as he caught his breath, and he hated himself for thinking about how beautiful her eyes were as she looked at him, and even more for how hard it had been not to kiss her, not to ask her into his tent just so he could hold her, so he could at least try to comfort her with all the love he had after Carver left. The same kind of love that poured out of her as they stood.

"Yes, M...Hawke?" He mentally cursed himself. Everyone else called her by her family name, save for Carver, but it didn't seem to be due to any particular disdain for the name Marian, so it always felt too informal to him to use it. _Her friends call her Hawke and you are her friend, and that's enough. So don't push your luck. Just go with it._

"Are you alright? I know you said you hate the Deep Roads, and I know I never should have asked, but..." Hawke trailed off and looked down, and Anders felt his chest tighten.

"No, no, I know why you did, and I'm glad I was there. I just...I just need a moment. To take all this," he waved his hand, gesturing about the area around them, "back in. Having a done a year in solitary will have that effect on a person." He hadn't meant to tell her that.

"Anders, I—"

He shook his head. "I know you didn't know, don't worry. I'm fine. How are _you_ holding up?"

"I'm still processing everything, but I...I think I'll to be okay,” she answered quietly. He'd gotten used to her sincerity by then, having noticed that she had a tendency to be far more sincere with her friends than she typically even wanted to be, but he couldn't help but note that she hadn't even tried to make a joke or deflect.

"Hey," he smiled at her, _"I_ made it through. Carver will be fine."

"I believe you," she replied with a nod, and it seemed she meant it.

Anders took a couple of steps away from the pillar, finally satisfied—as much as he could be—with his surroundings, and suddenly especially anxious to get back to the clinic.

"Anders," Hawke caught him before be could open his own mouth to speak. "I know I've already asked too much of you, but would you be able to come home with me? To tell Mother about Carver, I mean. I'm sorry, Maker knows this will be a disaster either way, but maybe if another Warden could help expla—"

"Of course I will," he interrupted, and realising he hadn't even needed to think about it. "Do you want to go now, or do you need some time?"

"I think the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get ourselves to the Hanged Man to forget any of this ever happened," she laughed half-heartedly.

He nodded, and they found Varric to tell him when they'd meet him back at the tavern, and Anders spent the entire walk to Gamlen's hovel fidgeting with his hands to keep himself from trying to hold Hawke's.


	2. An Open Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It only took them three years.

"Will you tell the world, the Knight-Commander, that you love an apostate and you will stand beside him?" The words poured out of Anders's mouth before he even knew what he was saying. He'd thought about this moment every day and night for the past three years, and it been made very clear that she had done the same, but he still couldn't help his concern. She was an apostate too, of course, and he knew she was well aware of the risk that entailed. But he also knew that her family had just gotten their position back and he didn't want his presence to affect them. He wanted this to be perfect, but he couldn't let himself embrace it quite yet. He still needed to put her first.

She kissed him, and then she kissed him again, and he wrapped his arms around her, taking in every sensation of her arms pressing back against him, of the confirmation they implied. "I love you," she said into his chest, the words somewhat muffled but the feeling behind it still bursting from each syllable.

They stood like that for what felt like ages. He knew that it had probably only been about a minute, if even that much, that passed between them like this, but he felt like time had stopped around them, hesitating as he felt himself begin to let go. He thought of asking to stay for a little while, of mentioning Darktown's latest Templar raids, but he was every bit as wary of assuming too much, of imposing, as he was of abandoning his patients, or even of the raids themselves. Hawke's head shot up as he shifted.

"Don't go," she whispered against his ear as she tightened her grip around him. "Don’t ever leave."

"Not ever?" Anders chuckled quietly, unsure if she could possibly have meant what he hoped she did. It was much too soon, or at least he supposed it would have been if they hadn't already pretty much spent the majority of the past three years together. Their relationship had been platonic in theory, but they both knew that was a lie, as did _everyone_ else. The evening may have provided their first kiss, their first night as lovers, but it was far from the beginning of their relationship. Still, he bit back such thoughts, bracing himself for her clarification. It seemed like too much to hope for.

"Never,” she replied, and Anders could hardly believe it. "I have waited too long to get you here and I can’t bear the thought of letting you go."

"I love you, Marian. I love you. Maker preserve me, I love you so much," Anders didn't even care that he was crying as he spoke. Happy tears were a new experience and a nice change, and now that their feelings had finally been laid bare he had no interest in holding any more back.

"I love you too, Anders. I have loved you for so long. Please stay. I want you stay." Her words were carefully enunciated, and he knew it was for his anxiety's sake, and he felt all the more grateful to be there for it. "I want you right here until the day we die."

Anders kissed her, not stopping for a moment as they moved back to the bed.


	3. All That Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Anders try to get through the aftermath of Leandra's death.

"Is there anything I can do, love?"

Anders sat down beside her on their bed, and Hawke knew she needed to let him in, let him help, but she wasn't sure how.

"Just hold me." She supposed it was a good start, and there wasn't a moment's hesitation in his moving to take her into his arms.

He guided her down into the bed as he moved to lie on his back, and she rested her head against his chest. She felt like she could cry, except that she couldn't. She'd been reduced to weeping at the scene, she'd sobbed and screamed and wailed against what had once been her mother, the _thing_ that Quentin had made her into, but as soon as she stopped then, she felt like all ability to feel anything had been stripped from her. She didn't remember coming home. She didn't even remember letting go of the body. She just remembered feeling everything, and then nothing.

"Where were you," she asked what was clearly a question, except there was virtually no inflection to it. Her voice sounded as hollow as she felt, the only feeling creeping in was the pang of guilt from the way Anders's arms tensed against her, the rise and fall of his chest underneath her as he took in a deep breath that she recognised well. It was somewhere between panic and a sigh, and it hadn't taken her long to pick up that it was a tell, that it meant he felt he'd done something terrible. She thought how she could almost hear his internal monologue, and she couldn’t help but wonder how Justice must have felt when he did that, or even about any of this.

"No, love, it's okay. I was just wondering, is all."

"Don't worry about me right now, Marian, please," he took in another deep breath, this one cautiously steadier. "You said I should head to the library, to get some writing done. I wasn't in there too long, we couldn't stand not to at least check on you, but you'd asked for some time to be alone, so we've just been at the desk."

She nodded, grateful that he seemed completely unfazed by having to explain that to her, even if she knew that probably meant he had his own experience with the feeling. This wasn't the first time it had happened to her, but it was the first time since Anders had moved in and, she was at least pretty sure, the first time he'd seen it from her.

Anders rolled onto his side and Hawke moved with him, and he pulled her as close against himself as he could, holding her tight. He planted light kisses along the back of her head, the tip of her ear, along her shoulder. He ran his hands over hers and along her arms, the constant movement giving her something to focus on. She'd seen him do this for himself on multiple occasions as well, and she kept that in mind and she closed her eyes and tried to push herself even closer to him. For as much as they both hated to see each other in pain, neither of them could deny that it was nice to know the other understood in times of need.

"...Did you say 'we'?" Anders had taken one of her hands into his own, keeping his thumb moving along it as best he could from the angle, and she supposed it must have been working as his word choice dawned on her.

"I suppose I did," Anders replied softly, kissing behind her ear.

"Good. Good, I'm glad." Hawke paused for a moment. "Is he okay?"

Anders took in another deep breath, but there was no sense of anxiety or guilt to it. It just was, and she suspected it was simply Anders trying to get a feel. Things were far from perfect, or even good, between him and Justice still, but they were trying, and there had been some progress, and Hawke took that as being at least better than nothing.

"He agrees with me that we are not the ones you should be focusing on right now, love," Anders answered with somehow more concern in his voice than he'd even shown before, and Hawke suspected that it was not all his. "He appreciates your asking."

"He’s welcome. I can't imagine the kind of effect this would have on a spirit of Justice who's dedicated himself to fighting for the mages. When we just met the finest fucking example of everything the Chantry fears."

"You're right, love, this isn't easy for him, but it isn't easy for any of us, and he knows just as well as we do that you don't need magic to be a monster." Hawke could have sworn she'd almost smiled at Anders’s words.

"You always know exactly what to say, love." She had hoped there would be more emotion in her voice, but it was still not so reassuring.

"I'm so sorry, Marian," Anders squeezed the hand he held. "I didn't get the chance to know her very well, but I know you loved her very much, as I am sure she loved you."

"You say you're sure because you didn't really know," Hawke said with a mirthless laugh despite herself. "She did love me, in her own way, but...fuck..."

"Love?"

"My mother is dead because of me. She told me she wanted to look into remarrying because she saw how much I enjoyed being with you. And maybe if I'd even been here when the lilies arrived, I could have warned her, but no, I was off Maker-knows-where doing Maker-knows-what, and then I failed to get to her in time, and so she's fucking dead but even now I still can't help thinking of the things _she_ did wrong. I suppose this is just what I deserve."

Hawke was almost grateful to feel the burn in her eyes as she started to cry again, and from the sigh he let out she gathered that Anders felt the same.

"You can't blame yourself, Marian. Would she really want that for you?"

Hawke choked out a sob. "You really _didn't_ know my mother. But...but that's a conversation for another time. I'm sorry, love, I shouldn't—"

"You're allowed to feel what you feel, and we'll talk about it when you're ready," Anders replied calmly. Hawke still couldn't get over that she had him there with her, that they had finally been able to care for each other the way they'd always wanted to, or how they'd both needed it even more than either of them had even realised. There was so much love in his voice, in every carefully chosen word, in every caress. "Would you like me to draw you a bath?"

"Will you join me? I really don't want to be alone."

Anders nodded against her neck, a small "of course, love" whispered against it as he got up. He held out his hand to her upon standing. "Come with me. You can sit, I'll prepare everything, but there's no reason for you to wait in here without company."

Hawke gratefully took his hand, wiping her face with her free one. "What did I ever do without you?"

"Maker knows I ask myself that same question every day," he smiled. "Come on, love, let's at least get you to relax a bit. I know it's not okay and it's not going to be, and I wish I could take this from you, but I can't so I'm just going to have to try to ease it as much as I possibly can."

Hawke followed him to the bath and he was right, she wasn't okay. She wasn't even close, but she knew that he meant every word he'd said, and that at least made the prospect of having to wake up the next day a little easier to take.


	4. Demands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke recovers from the duel with the Arishok, Anders worries. A lot.

Anders had barely slept since the Qunari attack. A few days had passed, and every second showed in the circles around his eyes.

He sat down next to the cot in his clinic where Hawke had been since the duel, resting his head against the edge of it, fighting with his eyelids as they threatened to close on him.

“Go home, Blondie,” Varric said from behind him, placing an arm on his shoulder. “This is what you have assistants for, and I promise I’ll come get you if any other patients stop in.”

“Thank you, Varric,” Anders yawned. “But I’m okay here.”

“Look on the bright side,” Varric let out a yawn of his own. “You live with the ‘Champion of Kirkwall’ now. Makes you seem fancy, probably even buys you some looks the other way.”

“Forgive me, Varric, but I honestly couldn’t possibly care less about titles right now.” Anders sighed as he pictured it all over again. The Arishok practically exploded as Hawke struck him with a burst of lightning right after she’d frozen him, all the while sustaining a crushing prison. The amount of mana she’d drained from the fight would have been enough all by itself without the fact that the Qunari leader had landed many of his own attacks. For most of it she’d remarkably managed to keep a hand pressed over the most dire of her wounds, the deepest of the gashes from where his spear had cut, but she simply didn’t have enough hands to hold back all of the blood she was losing, and the hands she had were shaking so badly from mana depletion by the end of it that it hardly made a difference anymore. The infamous Meredith Stannard stepped in to announce Hawke’s new title only moments before she dropped, and Aveline had to hold Anders back from rushing the Knight-Commander just to reach her, as Anders had to hold Justice back from coming forward to do the same.

Everything from that point until Anders actually had her stabilised was a blur to him. There was definitely going to be some pronounced scarring, he could only do so much about that, although he didn’t think she’d care about them anymore than he did. _At least hers come from battle. One would expect that._ He shook his head away from the thought.

“Anders…” Hawke’s voice was a shaky whisper, but it caught his attention right away, and he shot upright in response.

“Marian,” Anders exhaled. “Thank the Maker. How are you feeling?”

“Ow,” she replied with a weak laugh.

“Welcome back, Champion,” Varric said dryly.

Hawke just squinted back at him.

“Knight-Commander Meredith has dubbed you the Champion of Kirkwall for your heroics with the Qunari,” Anders explained in a sardonic tone. “You could easily have died, but at least you get a shiny new title out of the deal. That makes up for it, I’m sure.”

“It’s nice to be appreciated for once,” Hawke smiled. “If no one else is ever going to step up to fix every little fucking thing that goes wrong around here, I suppose the least they can do is acknowledge it.”

She reached towards Anders, cupping his cheek, her thumb brushing just beneath the dark lines under his eye.

“How long have we been here?”

“Fuck, what time is it?” Varric asked. “Umm, I guess it’s been about three and a half, nearly four days?”

“I’m surprised there’s even a city left to wake up to, in that case,” Hawke chuckled. “Or does this place just _look_ like the old clinic?”

“Nah, we’re still in good old Darktown, don’t you worry,” Varric laughed. “It’s actually been pretty quiet. Seems everyone’s been staying inside since the attacks, at least for now.”

“It won’t last, but I suppose it’s good to have a silver lining for the time being. Anders,” Hawke turned her eyes to him as her voice turned serious, “please tell me you’ve slept.”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on him,” Varric said before Anders could even open his mouth. “Oh, he’s been up this whole time and he’s fucking exhausted, so you should really close the clinic and get him home as soon as you can, but I’ve been looking out for him.”

“Thanks for that,” Anders sighed.

“Anytime, Blondie,” Varric smiled.

“How’s Isabela?” If Anders didn’t know any better, he’d think she was deflecting from focusing on herself on purpose. Of course, he did know better, so he knew that was exactly what she was doing.

“We haven’t seen her,” Varric said solemnly. “Not sure anyone has. I suspect she’ll be appearing soon enough. She just seemed pretty fucked up over what you did for her.”

“That’s what friends are for,” she mused.

“And partners,” Varric wagged a finger between Anders and Hawke, “are for taking care of each other, right? Is she okay to go home yet? Because if she is, you’re going with her, and you are heading straight to bed. Do you understand me, young man?”

“Yes, mother,” Anders responded with a glare. Varric was right, Anders was completely exhausted physically and emotionally, and he wasn’t honestly sure how much good he could even be to his patients in such a state.

“I think I can move,” Hawke said with a brush of a hand over Anders’s. “Varric, a little help?”

Anders stood up to collect some herbs and potions for Hawke from his stock cupboard as Varric assisted in moving her to sit at the edge of the cot. He carefully inspected each item as he placed them in his pack, unable to keep himself from his guilt over abandoning his post. More than that, however, was the intensity of his fear for Hawke. Not even so much in regards to her injuries, as he was certain that she had officially made it out of the woods in terms of life or death. It was because he knew that look in her eyes, and he couldn’t help how afraid he was of the prospect that Hawke may not have intended to survive the Arishok.

He was grateful when Varric walked them home, with his gift for forcing a casual tone without it usually actually sounding forced, but almost equally relieved when they reached the estate and bid him farewell.

“How’s the pain, love?” Anders asked her once she’d gotten into bed, which she answered with a small shrug.

“If you’re asking if you can join me,” she laughed quietly, “then you should know by now that it’s your bed, too.”

“That wasn’t the issue,” he retorted as he tossed off his boots and his coat before lying down beside her. “I was just…”

Anders pulled his share of the blankets over himself and swallowed hard. “I was just wondering how you’re feeling is all. If you’re...okay.”

“I’m in good hands,” she answered softly as she moved into him, and he carefully wrapped his arms around her. “Helps to have the best healer in Thedas in the same bed.”

“Marian, I…”

“Please, Anders,” she whispered, and he felt his chest tighten at her tone. “Do we have to have this conversation now?”

“I’m sorry,” he responded cautiously, and he was. He was sorry for so many things he couldn’t begin to explain, and he tersely pushed back a nudge that there was so much beyond his control, that he couldn’t protect everyone any better than she could, that they both felt too much guilt. He took in a deep breath at another nudge to keep pushing her, not to let her drop the subject, reluctantly acknowledging that it was the right thing and bracing himself to speak up once more. “I’m sorry, Marian, I am, but you have to understand that there was a moment when we honestly thought we’d lost you.”

“You said ‘we’ again,” was apparently all she could muster in response, and he chose not to focus on how genuinely pleased she seemed.

“That’s not what this is about,” he said harshly, momentarily cursing himself for how upset he knew he sounded, and his head swam with a million good intentions that made him want to scream.

“Well, maybe it should be!” Hawke’s words were aggressive as she pulled away from him and abruptly sat up, waving him away when he automatically reached for her at her wince. “No, don’t, fuck…”

Anders broke. He sat himself up beside her and his hands fell onto his lap, defeated, and the time since the attack all caught up to him at once. All of the exhaustion, all of the effort spent keeping himself together to ensure all of his focus would remain on her, every speck of emotion he’d pushed down throughout those days, all of it came forward and he shattered. His knees rose to his chest as though moving of their own accord, and he slumped his arms over them, his head in his hands as he sobbed. He hated himself for his timing, hated that he couldn’t have at least been able to hide himself in the library first. He had to have known this was coming, after all. He had to know the toll everything that had happened was inevitably going to take on him. _Understandably,_ he thought. Except that it wasn’t from him. He pushed it away.

Hawke barely bit back a small cry as she turned to hold him, but he shook his head and pulled back.

“Please, love, don’t hurt yourself, come on,” he choked as he helped her lie back down. “You’re still healing, you’re going to need to be especially gentle with yourself for a bit yet. You did just survive a fucking suicide mission, you know that.”

“Anders,” she folded her arms over her chest, bunching the blankets under her chin. “I wasn’t...I mean, fine. I know. I _knew._ It wasn’t actually my intention to let him kill me if that’s what you’re thinking, but you’re right, of course I realised that was an incredibly likely outcome. I just...Anders, I couldn’t _not._ I couldn’t let him take Isabela and I couldn’t let his fucking army take the city. What choice did I have?”

“I don’t know, Marian, I don’t,” he answered honestly, guilt tearing into his throat at the thought of it. “Isabela can take care of herself, though. She probably would have been fine.”

“You really don’t mean that I should have—”

“No, I really don’t,” he cut in quickly with a sigh. He didn’t mean it, not at all, but he felt at such a loss. He finally willed himself to lie back down as well, moving himself onto his back but unable to decide what to do with his hands, fidgeting awkwardly. “Fuck, of course not. But why—”

“Why is it always Hawke to the rescue?” She managed a laugh, and he turned his head to offer her a soft smile. “I ask that same question every damn day.”

“I’m sorry,” Anders said again after a moment. “I was just so scared…”

“I know, and I’m sorry for that,” she said sincerely. “I only did what I had to do. I couldn’t save Bethany. I couldn’t...I couldn’t save Mother. But I made damn sure Isabela wasn’t going down as long as I was there to stop it. No one fucking touches any more of my family, do you hear me? I will not lose more people I love to this damn city, not without it stepping over my fucking corpse to take them.”

“Marian…”

“I’m here now, Anders,” she added, her voice calmer as she finally claimed one of his hands, and he let the other rest at his side once she did. “Thank you for that.”

“Any time,” he tried to smirk, but faltered. “I love you, Marian. I love you so fucking much, and if these bastards ever dare to make me watch you die…”

“I love you, too, Anders,” she interjected as she carefully turned back to curl against him. “And while I promise to do everything in my power to never put you through that, I’ve no doubt you two would avenge me beautifully, don’t worry. No matter what happens, like I said, I’m in good hands.”

Neither of them acknowledged the statement, and Anders wasn’t even certain she’d meant to say it the way she did. Justice remained quiet, as well, and Anders couldn’t get a read on him. He was trying, or at least trying to try, but he couldn’t help the part of that was still afraid of the entire situation. He was no longer sure if it was because he truly believed he’d lost his friend to Vengeance, or if it was simply the lingering effects of Chantry doctrine popping up to judge him for what they’d done, even after they’d clearly proven such dogma fallible. Or beyond that, perhaps it had more to do with what he feared was yet to come, what he knew they were willing to do if Meredith and Elthina were not able to be reasoned with, how probable that was. It made him feel like a hypocrite, made his guilt rise over daring to confront Hawke over doing what she only considered her part, when he knew what it might mean for him to do the same. That wasn’t Justice’s fault, of course, but he remained an easy scapegoat when Anders reminded himself he wouldn’t be doing any of this without him, a point which Justice himself always seemed to concede. Of course, it was Anders himself who always followed with the further reminder that without Justice he would most likely never even have made it to Kirkwall, would probably have died not long after Rolan was stationed in Amaranthine. Even without their merger it was only a matter of time before that sword ended up through his chest, except that without their merger he’d never have come out the other side of it. He’d never even have met Hawke.

Justice remained quiet even still as Anders pushed all thought of him away, kissing the top of Hawke’s head, listening to her breathe. She’d already fallen asleep and he knew he was close behind, so he decided to just take the moment to be grateful for what was. He forced away the memories of what had been and the fears of what could be as best he could, pulling his focus towards Hawke resting against him, and taking in a long breath as he closed his eyes.


End file.
